( Whether or not Kaveh agrees to the offer, Wriothesley already made up his mind. Mahogany cabinets slide open with a collection of rare teas and liquors. Assuming the chance of spending a prolonged period here, of course, he made sure to equip the ship with things other than tea.
He brings two glass cups and a bottle to the table where Kaveh is. )
It is.
( He smiles at him directly in his eyes while popping open the bottle. )
[ Kaveh's eyes widen to see the collection inside the cabinets. He's enough of a drinker that he can recognize even the rarest of the liquors at a glance, and—
Mm, there are a couple of things that are self-evident, actually.
First, for someone presiding over a prison deep in the ocean, Wriothesley really lives the high life.
Second, the rumors about him being just that little bit bad? Definitely true.
He offers a playful raise of his brow even as the other man smiles right at him, and together the knowledge and the look on his face do something awful to Kaveh's stomach. Archons... ]
Lucky for you, Your Grace, I'm fantastic at keeping secrets.
[ Until he gets drunk. But even Kaveh doesn't realize that. ]
( Besides some reservations about the surface, he has all he needs down here. It's truly become a real home by now and he can't imagine settling above anytime soon, if at all. That's why people rarely catch a glimpse of him, or why most people know him by name rather than by face.
He pours Kaveh a cup and sits comfortably on a sofa there. If Kaveh wants to keep admiring his blueprints or taking mental notes, he's free to do so.
He's mostly teasing about keeping all this a secret, though. Some rules simply don't apply to him. He's the boss, after all. He paid his debt to justice long ago. )
Good to know. Maybe I'll tell you everything there is to know about this place, after all, huh.
( His gaze is still on him when he tilts back the cup for a tasteful swig. With humor as dry as his, it's obvious why most of his teasing goes unnoticed by most people. )
[ With the cup in hand, he moves to join Wriothesley on the sofa— there are plenty more blueprints he wants to look at, but he figures he can do that after, once they've had the time to sit and enjoy a drink together.
(Because there's no chance at all of him resisting that particular siren call, not when the Duke is sitting spread out and comfortable and Kaveh can imagine—)
Gods he hasn't even started drinking yet. Maybe the firewater is a bad idea...
But he still moves to sit next to the other, still takes a sip from his own cup— his nose wrinkles and his face contorts— before he laughs at what the other man says, shaking his head. Despite having fallen victim to Wriothesley's sense of humor before, now that he understands it (something much more like Alhaitham's than his own), the comment doesn't seem quite so out of place as it might have before. ]
The only people who should know the secrets of a place are its owner, and its architect, [ he points out primly, and then there's a pause before a sly grin tugs at his own lips. ] Ideally, it would just be its owner, but I'm obviously not about to advocate for murdering your architects. You know?
( Plenty could become of the fate of this couch in a place so secluded, none other soul in the entire Fortress would ever imagine let alone hear. Wriothesley drinks to the idea and he smiles at Kaveh. It has some ring to it: The architect of the Fortress, even if the ones credited to the design have long passed. It's a hefty title to carry even if Kaveh is simply joking about it.
When it comes to his ship, though, he laughs. Morbid humor is a way to cope with everything lying dormant beneath the waves and past the rims of his eyes. Harmless as Kaveh is, he still holds something of a warning when he glances at him as he sips again from his cup. )
Wow, Kaveh. I didn't think you could be so violent. If you wanted to work down here forever, I could revise your contract.
[ If Kaveh knew what was going through Wriothesley's mind in regards to the couch, they'd be having a very different conversation, probably. Then again, they would have had many different conversations recently in general, if he had any idea. But of course he's in total ignorance, and it shows in the way he sits comfortably— although somewhat more demurely than Wriothesley— on the couch, drinking another sip, and cringing once more at the taste.
Wine goes down so much more smoothly.
And when the other keeps speaking, the blonde finds himself torn: torn between how sexy it is to be threatened with a contract revision that would keep him down here, a prisoner— and he doesn't really want that, but the threat is sexy nonetheless— but also... ]
...Hey, I wasn't advocating violence, I was advocating the opposite of it! I'm the architect here, and I'd really prefer not to be killed to protect your secrets— or anyone's, thank you very much!
Really? Sounded like you were threatening my staff. The real question is, would you kill to protect my secrets?
( Perhaps this is the first taste Kaveh gets of Wriothesley's morbid humor. It could cut through the bones of people who may not be used to his commentary, but he finds it hilarious. Seeing Kaveh's reactions to him, always so expressive and easily riled up. He could tease him until the end of time and not tire of it.
He sips up the liquor tastefully, cherishing the strength. Now and then Wriothesley will enjoy these fine things, though tea is still a strong preference. Nothing like letting his mind crumble away, loosening up from his usual barriers. He sits closer to Kaveh so he can pour some more Firewater into his cup. )
[ There's something almost like panic on Kaveh's face when Wriothesley asks that question. He's not a killer; while he will fight to defend himself, Mehrak is always under strict instructions to disable to otherwise knock enemies down, not to kill them. Even when the same band of Eremites tried to rob him for a third time in a row, he didn't kill them. He's hardly about to start murdering people for the sake of Wriothesley's secrets, and...!
But the warden makes it clear that he's joking as he sits closer and tells him not to worry, pours more Firewater in his cup— that Kaveh, in all his anxieties, very promptly downs in a single gulp right before he fixes the other man with the sort of tired, annoyed look he would give Alhaitham— or that Tighnari would give Cyno. ]
You know you're impossible, right? I'm not gonna threaten your staff, Your Grace. Nor would I like to be threatened.
[ The burn down the back of his throat... He closes his eyes, and hums. And maybe it's the courage of the alcohol behind him, but he can't help himself from asking: ]
So is this apart of the normal tour, or did I luck into the deluxe package somehow?
( One thing to consider is how he still can't bring himself to respond to Navia's message on his phone. Surely Kaveh has allowed himself to move on after their mishap. Even alcohol subdues part of Wriothesley's thinking, so he places his cup down on the table and angles himself to fully give Kaveh his attention. )
On the contrary, I wouldn't want to find myself in court again with your sudden disappearance. I guarantee your safety as long as you're down here.
( His arm loosens over the back of the couch and grazes towards Kaveh's side. The veins right underneath his skin feel hot with the sudden warmth of alcohol pumping through his system, but he's a lot more coherent than Kaveh. He just can't help but keep his gaze on him. Suggestive as Kaveh is, he doesn't think it's wrong to answer his question truthfully. )
It's a one-of-a-kind package. You've been working hard lately, it wouldn't be right if I didn't reward you with deluxe treatment.
I also noticed you weren't going to the surface lately.
[ Oh, Archons. This is dangerous— the way Wriothesley guarantees in so calm a voice his safety, follows it up by slinging a casual arm over the couch, grazing his side in a way that is surely meant to be casual, but to which attraction and alcohol draw a sharp focus from Kaveh. The blonde finds himself biting his lip, gaze dropping as he realizes that those ice blue eyes aren't leaving his face.
Archons be damned, why does Wriothesley have to be so fucking attractive?
Kaveh offers him a shaky smile, something meant to be teasing but failing along the way, possibly— definitely— due to the alcohol. ]
I've worked hard for many clients before. Not a single one of them has treated me to a tour of their facility's secrets and expensive alcohol. You're certainly unique, Your Grace.
[ And then, of course, comes the revelation that the other knows Kaveh has not been to the surface recently— the younger man sighs, and shakes his head. ]
Yeah, I... guess I haven't felt the need. I'm sure I'll go up for some fresh air any day now but... my room is comfortable enough.
[ And when he's in the Fortress, he has a chance of seeing him. ]
( Dangerous is still better than holding up the barrier he’s been keeping with him. Wriothesley wishes to hand over his trust in hand, he wants to unite in a way he knows it may not be possible with Kaveh. Treating him so blatantly to nicer things in the Fortress is as far as he can go.
But even the alcohol is changing his mind. )
I have to keep your spirits up. It’s not easy adapting to life down here.
( He smiles and takes another swig of the firewater, veering his gaze away. )
Glad you like the room. I worked hard on it, you know.
Anyway, were you going to visit your mother in the surface? You know, you can tell me things. I won’t tell anyone.
( His fingers linger over his shoulder, barely touching the blond sprawling out on it. He can hold his alcohol well, but this is his reason, his excuse. Blue eyes flicker up to his eyes and he pulls away. )
I’m just glad you ended up staying here in Fontaine.
[ Gods preserve him. Kaveh feels a shudder run down his spine at the way Wriothesley's eyes drag away from him in favor of a swig of firewater. The whole thing feels very erotically charged, like the warden could just reach out and grab him in the next moment. Trembling fingers stretch to take the bottle from him, his cup long empty— a mutter of "hey, share" on his lips— but Wriothesley keeps talking even as his lips touch the bottle's rim, and he sighs. ]
I know you worked hard, even though this is the first time you've told me that. Your guards told me. You keep secrets well, that much is obvious. [ The smile that finds his lips is wry, holding even as the other's fingers seem to flex as if to touch— ]
Don't make me talk about family right now. I'm in a good mood, and that's the one thing sure to spoil it..
[ —and then pull away, and this time it's Kaveh's turn to pivot into the other's space, leaning in to peer at him with crimson eyes shot with alcohol and attraction that the firewater won't let him hide. ]
And here I thought you were trying to chase me out.
( Under rock and sea, so far away from society, they are free to do as they please. It's not that Wriothesley can't come to terms with who he is, what he likes, but his past experiences with men in younger years never made an impact on him. Perhaps he had experiences with the wrong men. Though, what would Kaveh think of him if he were to essentially go back on his word? He rather not bring up more confusion to the table, or hurt Kaveh more when he inevitably realizes he will never find himself with Wriothesley full trust in his hands. )
Did they, huh. I guess I should have a word with them next time I see them.
( He doesn't particularly mind. It's not like the information was confidential. Harmless, actually. It's fun keeping Kaveh on alert, tossing threats here and there. He pulls his hand back as if to respect his boundary. Instead, he'll get busy again with pouring himself some more Firewater. )
Alright, I see you also have secrets. Cheers to that, no? It's not so much me chasing you out than my own reasons. But I guess that's a conversation for another time. We've already apologized to one another enough. Want another drink?
[ Perhaps it will come as a surprise to Wriothesley that, this time, Kaveh doesn't bite at the teasing threat made towards his men. Likely, it's because his attention is laser sharp— as much as it can be, dulled as it is by Firewater— on what the other says next: he has his own reasons for wanting Kaveh to stay in Fontaine? The architect is intrigued, wants to press for more information,
but instead he accepts the cup that is offered with an unsteady hand, throws it back and smiles an unsteadier smile. ]
Not a secret. [ Even if, when he's sober, he would act like it is. ] Just bullshit. Bullshit I don't like to think about because it's... [ He pauses, thinking for several seconds too long for the right word, and eventually settles on: ] Bullshit.
[ After all, what other words are there to describe what happened with his father? His mother? His step-father? All it will do is ruin both of their buzzes, and this is the best buzz he's had in weeks. So he smiles it away, something charming (but drunk), leans his head on Wriothesley's shoulder and looks up at him. ]
You can ask me anything else, though. Seeing as you "won't tell anyone".
( Why does this man have to look so ravishing? Everything he does is utter magic. Fresh and beautiful. Wriothesley gulps at his Firewater, putting down the empty cup with vision going slightly blurry. This is the stopping point for him, the last thing he wants is to black out and forget his time with Kaveh. )
Family can be bullshit, I agree. No need to tell me anything you don’t want.
( He hopes his family life isn’t as bad as his once was, though. A strong hand of his makes it over Kaveh’s thigh, sliding up just below his groin. He leans against him, too, sighing as eyes close. Everything feels hot from the Firewater, every thought diluted but every feeling burning. He lets out a throaty laugh, trying to peek at him. )
Anything? You’re giving me a lot of power. You sure about that?
[ It should be Kaveh's stopping point too— and unless Wriothesley thinks to offer him any more of the drink, it will be. For now, he's content, enjoying the warmth not only of the Firewater scalding his veins, but of the other leaning into him
(and if he startles a little at the sudden sensation of a strong hand high on his thigh, he hopes he hides it well enough so as not to paint his attraction all over the walls for Wriothesley to see yet again— they've moved past this, he can't drag them back— but he can imagine how good those hands would feel, pressing him down into a mattress or maybe even this couch, stern mouth hot at his ear, his throat—)
and the sound of his laugh, throaty in a way that sends shivers down Kaveh's spine, and surprisingly warm— or maybe that's just the liquor. His own eyes are half-lidded as he peers in return. ]
Mm. As long as it's not about family, or money, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer honestly.
( Their spines are curved towards one another, lazily inching down on the couch without proper posture. Wriothesley keeps his gaze on Kaveh, drunken and enjoying the sight of him. He has never felt so enthralled by someone’s appearance, though he feels similarly for Navia. It’s not like his heart bleeds like it is now, pumping harder than normal at a chance with him. Who knows if another will come up?
If he makes a wrong move, everything they worked for will be gone. He looks down at his lips, at the parting of his shirt, strained for more. )
If you could get anything you want right this second, what would it be?
[ Kaveh's eyes have never left Wriothesley's face, not since this conversation started; somehow, though, he's unaware of the fact that the other is watching him in much the same way, gazing down at him with thoughts in his mind that echo in some way Kaveh's own.
His own—
anything you want
Ah, maybe he made a mistake after all. To answer this question honestly is to shatter all over again everything they've worked so carefully toward rebuilding, to destroy any trust he's managed to earn back— Kaveh chews at his lower lip, but the answer is on the tip of his tongue nonetheless.
He promised honesty.
His lips part. He wets them with an anxious swipe of his tongue. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse— but his eyes, locked on Wriothesley's face, are bright with sincerity. ]
( Plenty of time has etched between them, enough of time for any wishes or feelings to fall through the crevasse. Not even the element within his vision feels as cold as losing the opportunity with him. His mind is in a jam, taking all those decisions because he knows this is a bad idea. But if not now then when?
He thought Kaveh would have moved on then, with the guy at the bar or someone else. He could have anybody, so why is he still single?
Wriothesley stares at those lips, gaze alternating up to those red eyes. He’s always so shimmery, so full of passion and dreams. The answer takes off a weight off his shoulders, and that same hand that was once on his thighs lifts up over his jaw. Through his hair and around his skull so he can bring their faces closer. )
Don’t be scared.
( Forehead to forehead now, he feels his throbbing heart at his throat. The scent and taste of Firewater is hot on Kaveh’s lips, so he leans closer, tilting his head gradually so they can lock. His lips are soft and warm and they feel just right against him. Fingers curl around the back of his hairline so he can gently tangle them through golden locks.
Fuck.
The self control has to be immense for Wriothesley to not bury himself into him, clothes on and everything. He breathes hot through his nostrils, breathlessly rolling his tongue between their lips for a better taste. It changes nothing. Whether he’s a man or a woman, he realizes none of it matters. )
[ But Kaveh silences himself, because that would be a lie, and he promised he wouldn't lie.
(Of course, he also promised himself he'd stop chasing after the Duke's affections, and look where he is now— all but draped in his lap, their foreheads pressed together, Wriothesley's fingers in his hair and Snezhnayan Firewater on his breath.)
Instead, he just sits there, looking at him, red eyes on blue, breath trembling and heart pounding in his chest that he's irrationally sure the other will hear it. Surely the other won't actually kiss him, surely it will be just another of those frustrating, teasing little pecks that drove him crazy the first time; after all, Wriothesley doesn't like men, does he, so—
It's his thoughts this time that are silenced by the press of the warden's mouth onto his, by the fingers tangling into his hair as he's pulled close, and there's a moment where Kaveh's eyes widen and he forgets to answer with anything but a surprised, molten sound, because oh he didn't expect this, could never predict the lock of those firm lips against his, or the way the sensation sends butterflies racing down his veins.
He recovers quickly, hands reaching, grasping the other man by the front of his shirt and pulling him yet closer, tongue arching to meet that which pushes into his mouth, another soft sound on his lips. The Duke's mouth tastes like the same Firewater Kaveh knows is on his own tongue, but beyond that there's a vague hint of some type of tea, something so distinctly him that it makes the blonde shudder in delight as much as the kiss itself does. ]
( The more he rejects himself from having him, the more intense his need to conquer him becomes. It's not that Wriothesley can hear Kaveh's heart, not whatsoever, but he is aware of his own. Every single chamber blasting and thundering, turning utterly insane at the thought of tasting Kaveh's mouth while he's in his arms. It's wrong, he knows it is. At least the calculated aspect of it. He'll stop if Kaveh stops, of course.
The sounds Kaveh makes against his mouth are a blessing to his ears and they are responsible for the heat rushing to his face as well as his groin. He shifts uncomfortably, complying with Kaveh's hands tugging him closer while Wriothesley's hand once again helps itself to Kaveh's thigh. Only this time, he lets it roam languid between his legs to grasp at his cock through his pants. That's when Wriothesley pauses, gasping, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with an apology stuck in his throat. Only he's not sorry.
He does, however, resume grabbing Kaveh's face with both hands to keep on kissing him, pushing him over until he's awkwardly over his body. He drinks up everything Kaveh offers, namely the pretty sight of him, his eyes. He bites at his bottom lip and tugs in hunger and desperation like he's racing against time. )
[ The problem for Wriothesley, then, is that Kaveh won't stop. Pressed right into his arms is the one thing for which he's been wanting, yearning, aching, and he's drunk enough to ignore that panicked little part of him that tries to warn him that it's only happening because they're drunk. How can he say no, even if he knows it's the right thing to do? When this is over, he probably won't get another chance—
And for a single sharp second, it is over— a hand grasps firm at his cock, earning a melodic moan from Kaveh's mouth, only for Wriothesley to pull back with a gasp, the back of his hand swiping across his mouth in a way that makes Kaveh feel sick to his stomach.
It's over, just as quickly as it's begun.
His lips part, trembling, searching for words of apology or something, but his face is seized again in the next moment, and Kaveh groans; one hand stays anchored in Wriothesley's clothes, but the other slides up, curls up over his neck and ear, skimming over the piercings before landing in his hair, tangling in the strands to pull him closer. That low, sinful murmur of his name is answered with another moan, and Kaveh seeks to reward him by angling his leg between both of the Duke's, lifting his knee to nudge against his groin. ]
( He knows he's ruining everything by humoring this idea, whether they're drunk or sober. There's just this essence about Kaveh that transcends his inner inhibitions and dilemmas and etches right into his core. Touching him should be reserved for the gods, yet here he is, these bloody, sinful hands curling around his nape and down his shoulders until they find themselves up into his shirt. Practiced and experienced in the field, and as soft as Kaveh is, he can tell he's not as soft as Navia. He's not thinking about her out of desire, but rather obligation. His mind can only juggle so much at once and if he were to focus solely on Kaveh and all his sounds, he might go feral.
He flinches as soon as Kaveh's knee rolls over his strained cock, pausing again for a moment to catch his breath. He expected to kiss him, that much is true, but he didn't expect to do more. Drunk as Wriothesley is, aching hard in his pants with the sole goal of splitting Kaveh in half, he knows they can't go that far. He groans softly as they press forehead to forehead and Kaveh is tugging and messing with his hair, piercings, and ear. It's irritatingly pleasing, so good he'd risk losing sight of himself through this entire ordeal. But, he's not that type of man after all, and he keeps on kissing him along his jaw, pulling on his hair to tilt his head up so he can tease his neck with an enduring bite. Nobody will know there's a mark if he makes it just at the crook of it, just where his pressure points are. The intensity begins to feel like an apology, ebbing into warmth as he sucks and kisses the other side of his neck while he rolls his shirt back into place. He'll kiss him all night long or until they black out, but that's as far as he's willing to go. )
[ The flinch hurts, cuts— but it's enough to tell Kaveh to back off. Wriothesley is hard, he can feel it even with his knee lowered back to the sofa. But he's nearly been scared off twice, and Kaveh doesn't want that. So his hips, aching to rock up against that enduring strength, remain still under sheer willpower, even as the other's hand tugs his hair sideways to kiss and suck a bite into the skin, carefully placing it where no one will see. Kaveh's head tilts back to allow him the space, breath soft and harsh at the same time into the cool air of the ship's office, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling—
What is he doing? ]
Y-Your Grace.
[ Hands tremble, catch on the other's cheeks, a gentle tug upwards so eyes can meet, and Kaveh can only hope the sudden pain he's feeling is hidden in the dim of the light. He wants this, he asked for this, but— ]
I'm sorry. I'm drunk, I—
[ —shouldn't have, is what Kaveh means to say, but looking into those piercing blue eyes is like falling into an abyss from which he can't escape, and the words are gone, swallowed by their intensity. The architect's arms lift once more, and circle Wriothesley's shoulders, pulling him into another hard, hungry kiss. He's drunk, he shouldn't have, he shouldn't be, but he can't stop himself from pulling the other closer again, teeth nipping and tongue searching his out once more.
He gets it. He won't push it any further than this. But is it so wrong to take what he's given? ]
( He mumbles against his neck, licking across the dip under his Adam's apple, familiarizing himself with his body. Just because they won't get further than this doesn't mean Wriothesley isn't capable of bringing Kaveh to his end with pleasure. He has other ways.
He sighs as Kaveh pulls him to look into each other's eyes. It might be too late to salvage everything, it's written across his face. It drips in every word and every breath like venom and it poisons Wriothesley to succession. His brows crease slightly and he barely shakes his head before Kaveh pulls him back, it's hard to avoid their teeth clashing while they find their bearings again. Kaveh definitely has more weight to his hands than others, he likes the thickness of his bones, and the mass of his muscles. The soft lines between the definition of his masculinity truly make up a stunning man.
It's not sex if their clothes stay on, right? He's already so wet with precum in his pants, it's stupid. Could Kaveh get off like this, he wonders? The deleted pictures of his from the past are so burnt into his memory, he knows just about how big he gets, he felt him, but he wants more.
His tongue rolls hotly around his, giving off a moan of his own. Then he lowers down his hips until they meet exactly where it matters. Wriothesley tries adjusting himself just right, grinding his clothed cock against Kaveh's. It would be too misleading if he undid his pants, so he doesn't. This isn't Kaveh's fault.
Hazed in pleasure and utter need, Wriothesley pulls back to look into his eyes while he's still dryly grinding him into the couch, feeling for his erection against him. )
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sempiternals2023-11-16 11:24 pm
no subject
He brings two glass cups and a bottle to the table where Kaveh is. )
It is.
( He smiles at him directly in his eyes while popping open the bottle. )
So you'd better keep this a secret, yes?
no subject
Mm, there are a couple of things that are self-evident, actually.
First, for someone presiding over a prison deep in the ocean, Wriothesley really lives the high life.
Second, the rumors about him being just that little bit bad? Definitely true.
He offers a playful raise of his brow even as the other man smiles right at him, and together the knowledge and the look on his face do something awful to Kaveh's stomach. Archons... ]
Lucky for you, Your Grace, I'm fantastic at keeping secrets.
[ Until he gets drunk. But even Kaveh doesn't realize that. ]
no subject
He pours Kaveh a cup and sits comfortably on a sofa there. If Kaveh wants to keep admiring his blueprints or taking mental notes, he's free to do so.
He's mostly teasing about keeping all this a secret, though. Some rules simply don't apply to him. He's the boss, after all. He paid his debt to justice long ago. )
Good to know. Maybe I'll tell you everything there is to know about this place, after all, huh.
( His gaze is still on him when he tilts back the cup for a tasteful swig. With humor as dry as his, it's obvious why most of his teasing goes unnoticed by most people. )
no subject
(Because there's no chance at all of him resisting that particular siren call, not when the Duke is sitting spread out and comfortable and Kaveh can imagine—)
Gods he hasn't even started drinking yet. Maybe the firewater is a bad idea...
But he still moves to sit next to the other, still takes a sip from his own cup— his nose wrinkles and his face contorts— before he laughs at what the other man says, shaking his head. Despite having fallen victim to Wriothesley's sense of humor before, now that he understands it (something much more like Alhaitham's than his own), the comment doesn't seem quite so out of place as it might have before. ]
The only people who should know the secrets of a place are its owner, and its architect, [ he points out primly, and then there's a pause before a sly grin tugs at his own lips. ] Ideally, it would just be its owner, but I'm obviously not about to advocate for murdering your architects. You know?
no subject
When it comes to his ship, though, he laughs. Morbid humor is a way to cope with everything lying dormant beneath the waves and past the rims of his eyes. Harmless as Kaveh is, he still holds something of a warning when he glances at him as he sips again from his cup. )
Wow, Kaveh. I didn't think you could be so violent. If you wanted to work down here forever, I could revise your contract.
Heh.
no subject
Wine goes down so much more smoothly.
And when the other keeps speaking, the blonde finds himself torn: torn between how sexy it is to be threatened with a contract revision that would keep him down here, a prisoner— and he doesn't really want that, but the threat is sexy nonetheless— but also... ]
...Hey, I wasn't advocating violence, I was advocating the opposite of it! I'm the architect here, and I'd really prefer not to be killed to protect your secrets— or anyone's, thank you very much!
no subject
( Perhaps this is the first taste Kaveh gets of Wriothesley's morbid humor. It could cut through the bones of people who may not be used to his commentary, but he finds it hilarious. Seeing Kaveh's reactions to him, always so expressive and easily riled up. He could tease him until the end of time and not tire of it.
He sips up the liquor tastefully, cherishing the strength. Now and then Wriothesley will enjoy these fine things, though tea is still a strong preference. Nothing like letting his mind crumble away, loosening up from his usual barriers. He sits closer to Kaveh so he can pour some more Firewater into his cup. )
You worry too much. Relax. I was kidding.
no subject
But the warden makes it clear that he's joking as he sits closer and tells him not to worry, pours more Firewater in his cup— that Kaveh, in all his anxieties, very promptly downs in a single gulp right before he fixes the other man with the sort of tired, annoyed look he would give Alhaitham— or that Tighnari would give Cyno. ]
You know you're impossible, right? I'm not gonna threaten your staff, Your Grace. Nor would I like to be threatened.
[ The burn down the back of his throat... He closes his eyes, and hums. And maybe it's the courage of the alcohol behind him, but he can't help himself from asking: ]
So is this apart of the normal tour, or did I luck into the deluxe package somehow?
no subject
On the contrary, I wouldn't want to find myself in court again with your sudden disappearance. I guarantee your safety as long as you're down here.
( His arm loosens over the back of the couch and grazes towards Kaveh's side. The veins right underneath his skin feel hot with the sudden warmth of alcohol pumping through his system, but he's a lot more coherent than Kaveh. He just can't help but keep his gaze on him. Suggestive as Kaveh is, he doesn't think it's wrong to answer his question truthfully. )
It's a one-of-a-kind package. You've been working hard lately, it wouldn't be right if I didn't reward you with deluxe treatment.
I also noticed you weren't going to the surface lately.
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Archons be damned, why does Wriothesley have to be so fucking attractive?
Kaveh offers him a shaky smile, something meant to be teasing but failing along the way, possibly— definitely— due to the alcohol. ]
I've worked hard for many clients before. Not a single one of them has treated me to a tour of their facility's secrets and expensive alcohol. You're certainly unique, Your Grace.
[ And then, of course, comes the revelation that the other knows Kaveh has not been to the surface recently— the younger man sighs, and shakes his head. ]
Yeah, I... guess I haven't felt the need. I'm sure I'll go up for some fresh air any day now but... my room is comfortable enough.
[ And when he's in the Fortress, he has a chance of seeing him. ]
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But even the alcohol is changing his mind. )
I have to keep your spirits up. It’s not easy adapting to life down here.
( He smiles and takes another swig of the firewater, veering his gaze away. )
Glad you like the room.
I worked hard on it, you know.
Anyway, were you going to visit your mother in the surface? You know, you can tell me things. I won’t tell anyone.
( His fingers linger over his shoulder, barely touching the blond sprawling out on it. He can hold his alcohol well, but this is his reason, his excuse. Blue eyes flicker up to his eyes and he pulls away. )
I’m just glad you ended up staying here in Fontaine.
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I know you worked hard, even though this is the first time you've told me that. Your guards told me. You keep secrets well, that much is obvious. [ The smile that finds his lips is wry, holding even as the other's fingers seem to flex as if to touch— ]
Don't make me talk about family right now. I'm in a good mood, and that's the one thing sure to spoil it..
[ —and then pull away, and this time it's Kaveh's turn to pivot into the other's space, leaning in to peer at him with crimson eyes shot with alcohol and attraction that the firewater won't let him hide. ]
And here I thought you were trying to chase me out.
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Did they, huh. I guess I should have a word with them next time I see them.
( He doesn't particularly mind. It's not like the information was confidential. Harmless, actually. It's fun keeping Kaveh on alert, tossing threats here and there. He pulls his hand back as if to respect his boundary. Instead, he'll get busy again with pouring himself some more Firewater. )
Alright, I see you also have secrets. Cheers to that, no?
It's not so much me chasing you out than my own reasons. But I guess that's a conversation for another time. We've already apologized to one another enough. Want another drink?
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but instead he accepts the cup that is offered with an unsteady hand, throws it back and smiles an unsteadier smile. ]
Not a secret. [ Even if, when he's sober, he would act like it is. ] Just bullshit. Bullshit I don't like to think about because it's... [ He pauses, thinking for several seconds too long for the right word, and eventually settles on: ] Bullshit.
[ After all, what other words are there to describe what happened with his father? His mother? His step-father? All it will do is ruin both of their buzzes, and this is the best buzz he's had in weeks. So he smiles it away, something charming (but drunk), leans his head on Wriothesley's shoulder and looks up at him. ]
You can ask me anything else, though. Seeing as you "won't tell anyone".
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Family can be bullshit, I agree. No need to tell me anything you don’t want.
( He hopes his family life isn’t as bad as his once was, though.
A strong hand of his makes it over Kaveh’s thigh, sliding up just below his groin. He leans against him, too, sighing as eyes close. Everything feels hot from the Firewater, every thought diluted but every feeling burning. He lets out a throaty laugh, trying to peek at him. )
Anything? You’re giving me a lot of power. You sure about that?
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(and if he startles a little at the sudden sensation of a strong hand high on his thigh, he hopes he hides it well enough so as not to paint his attraction all over the walls for Wriothesley to see yet again— they've moved past this, he can't drag them back— but he can imagine how good those hands would feel, pressing him down into a mattress or maybe even this couch, stern mouth hot at his ear, his throat—)
and the sound of his laugh, throaty in a way that sends shivers down Kaveh's spine, and surprisingly warm— or maybe that's just the liquor. His own eyes are half-lidded as he peers in return. ]
Mm. As long as it's not about family, or money, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer honestly.
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If he makes a wrong move, everything they worked for will be gone. He looks down at his lips, at the parting of his shirt, strained for more. )
If you could get anything you want right this second, what would it be?
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His own—
anything you want
Ah, maybe he made a mistake after all. To answer this question honestly is to shatter all over again everything they've worked so carefully toward rebuilding, to destroy any trust he's managed to earn back— Kaveh chews at his lower lip, but the answer is on the tip of his tongue nonetheless.
He promised honesty.
His lips part. He wets them with an anxious swipe of his tongue. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse— but his eyes, locked on Wriothesley's face, are bright with sincerity. ]
...You.
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He thought Kaveh would have moved on then, with the guy at the bar or someone else. He could have anybody, so why is he still single?
Wriothesley stares at those lips, gaze alternating up to those red eyes. He’s always so shimmery, so full of passion and dreams.
The answer takes off a weight off his shoulders, and that same hand that was once on his thighs lifts up over his jaw. Through his hair and around his skull so he can bring their faces closer. )
Don’t be scared.
( Forehead to forehead now, he feels his throbbing heart at his throat. The scent and taste of Firewater is hot on Kaveh’s lips, so he leans closer, tilting his head gradually so they can lock. His lips are soft and warm and they feel just right against him. Fingers curl around the back of his hairline so he can gently tangle them through golden locks.
Fuck.
The self control has to be immense for Wriothesley to not bury himself into him, clothes on and everything. He breathes hot through his nostrils, breathlessly rolling his tongue between their lips for a better taste. It changes nothing. Whether he’s a man or a woman, he realizes none of it matters. )
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[ But Kaveh silences himself, because that would be a lie, and he promised he wouldn't lie.
(Of course, he also promised himself he'd stop chasing after the Duke's affections, and look where he is now— all but draped in his lap, their foreheads pressed together, Wriothesley's fingers in his hair and Snezhnayan Firewater on his breath.)
Instead, he just sits there, looking at him, red eyes on blue, breath trembling and heart pounding in his chest that he's irrationally sure the other will hear it. Surely the other won't actually kiss him, surely it will be just another of those frustrating, teasing little pecks that drove him crazy the first time; after all, Wriothesley doesn't like men, does he, so—
It's his thoughts this time that are silenced by the press of the warden's mouth onto his, by the fingers tangling into his hair as he's pulled close, and there's a moment where Kaveh's eyes widen and he forgets to answer with anything but a surprised, molten sound, because oh he didn't expect this, could never predict the lock of those firm lips against his, or the way the sensation sends butterflies racing down his veins.
He recovers quickly, hands reaching, grasping the other man by the front of his shirt and pulling him yet closer, tongue arching to meet that which pushes into his mouth, another soft sound on his lips. The Duke's mouth tastes like the same Firewater Kaveh knows is on his own tongue, but beyond that there's a vague hint of some type of tea, something so distinctly him that it makes the blonde shudder in delight as much as the kiss itself does. ]
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The sounds Kaveh makes against his mouth are a blessing to his ears and they are responsible for the heat rushing to his face as well as his groin. He shifts uncomfortably, complying with Kaveh's hands tugging him closer while Wriothesley's hand once again helps itself to Kaveh's thigh. Only this time, he lets it roam languid between his legs to grasp at his cock through his pants. That's when Wriothesley pauses, gasping, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with an apology stuck in his throat. Only he's not sorry.
He does, however, resume grabbing Kaveh's face with both hands to keep on kissing him, pushing him over until he's awkwardly over his body. He drinks up everything Kaveh offers, namely the pretty sight of him, his eyes. He bites at his bottom lip and tugs in hunger and desperation like he's racing against time. )
Kaveh.
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And for a single sharp second, it is over— a hand grasps firm at his cock, earning a melodic moan from Kaveh's mouth, only for Wriothesley to pull back with a gasp, the back of his hand swiping across his mouth in a way that makes Kaveh feel sick to his stomach.
It's over, just as quickly as it's begun.
His lips part, trembling, searching for words of apology or something, but his face is seized again in the next moment, and Kaveh groans; one hand stays anchored in Wriothesley's clothes, but the other slides up, curls up over his neck and ear, skimming over the piercings before landing in his hair, tangling in the strands to pull him closer. That low, sinful murmur of his name is answered with another moan, and Kaveh seeks to reward him by angling his leg between both of the Duke's, lifting his knee to nudge against his groin. ]
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He flinches as soon as Kaveh's knee rolls over his strained cock, pausing again for a moment to catch his breath. He expected to kiss him, that much is true, but he didn't expect to do more. Drunk as Wriothesley is, aching hard in his pants with the sole goal of splitting Kaveh in half, he knows they can't go that far. He groans softly as they press forehead to forehead and Kaveh is tugging and messing with his hair, piercings, and ear. It's irritatingly pleasing, so good he'd risk losing sight of himself through this entire ordeal. But, he's not that type of man after all, and he keeps on kissing him along his jaw, pulling on his hair to tilt his head up so he can tease his neck with an enduring bite. Nobody will know there's a mark if he makes it just at the crook of it, just where his pressure points are. The intensity begins to feel like an apology, ebbing into warmth as he sucks and kisses the other side of his neck while he rolls his shirt back into place. He'll kiss him all night long or until they black out, but that's as far as he's willing to go. )
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What is he doing? ]
Y-Your Grace.
[ Hands tremble, catch on the other's cheeks, a gentle tug upwards so eyes can meet, and Kaveh can only hope the sudden pain he's feeling is hidden in the dim of the light. He wants this, he asked for this, but— ]
I'm sorry. I'm drunk, I—
[ —shouldn't have, is what Kaveh means to say, but looking into those piercing blue eyes is like falling into an abyss from which he can't escape, and the words are gone, swallowed by their intensity. The architect's arms lift once more, and circle Wriothesley's shoulders, pulling him into another hard, hungry kiss. He's drunk, he shouldn't have, he shouldn't be, but he can't stop himself from pulling the other closer again, teeth nipping and tongue searching his out once more.
He gets it. He won't push it any further than this. But is it so wrong to take what he's given? ]
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He sighs as Kaveh pulls him to look into each other's eyes. It might be too late to salvage everything, it's written across his face. It drips in every word and every breath like venom and it poisons Wriothesley to succession. His brows crease slightly and he barely shakes his head before Kaveh pulls him back, it's hard to avoid their teeth clashing while they find their bearings again. Kaveh definitely has more weight to his hands than others, he likes the thickness of his bones, and the mass of his muscles. The soft lines between the definition of his masculinity truly make up a stunning man.
It's not sex if their clothes stay on, right? He's already so wet with precum in his pants, it's stupid. Could Kaveh get off like this, he wonders? The deleted pictures of his from the past are so burnt into his memory, he knows just about how big he gets, he felt him, but he wants more.
His tongue rolls hotly around his, giving off a moan of his own. Then he lowers down his hips until they meet exactly where it matters. Wriothesley tries adjusting himself just right, grinding his clothed cock against Kaveh's. It would be too misleading if he undid his pants, so he doesn't. This isn't Kaveh's fault.
Hazed in pleasure and utter need, Wriothesley pulls back to look into his eyes while he's still dryly grinding him into the couch, feeling for his erection against him. )
So am I.
The drunk part.
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